


Curiosity

by roundandtalented



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caretaking, Handcuffs, Implied Past Dualscar/Mindfang, M/M, Multi, Prisoner of War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roundandtalented/pseuds/roundandtalented
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When word gets to you that they've captured Dualscar himself, you have to admit you're a little impressed. </p><p>Your group is a ragtag bunch of rebels, misfits, and cullbait. You're lucky not to lose one of you trying to find food, never mind capture a notorious sea captain who's well known as one of the best in The Empress's fleet.</p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small"><br/>    <i>updates Sundays</i><br/>  </span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xagave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xagave/gifts).



> I cranked this out really fast so there's bound to be mistakes, and that title isn't something I'm super pleased with, so it might change.  
> And yeah, this is very much a mash of ' _canon_ ', ' _fanon_ ', and ' _ehhh whatever_ '.

When word gets to you that they've captured Dualscar himself, you have to admit you're a little impressed. 

Your group is a ragtag bunch of rebels, misfits, and cullbait. You're lucky not to lose one of you trying to find food, never mind capture a notorious sea captain who's well known as one of the best in The Empress's fleet.

Disciple wants to kill him, and Psii is right behind her. 

There were slaves on his ship, prisoners. You've not gotten to look for yourself yet, and honestly your pusher hurts just thinking about it. You've seen ships hulls before. You've seen the cells, the beaten and abused lowbloods who somehow clung to life in there.

As much as you want to give the survivors hope, reassurance... you're not sure you can handle the sheer numbers for this size of ship. 

You'd been staying at a small pirate port, picking up friends from one ship. That had been the plan, anyway. But they'd come 'bearing gifts' in the form of a captured ship in toe of their own.

 

"We figured you were the best one to judge what t'do with him."  
The brownblood before you admits, scratching his neck timidly.  
"Didn't want to overdo anythin'. An', we know you're not keen on killin' anyone, no matter who they are."

You nod, and Psii crosses his arms next to you. He's your back up, if this goes horrifically wrong. 

"Thank you. I'm not sure what to do yet myself, honestly." You admit it freely and it gets a chuckle out of him.

"Well, I'm sure your call's the best one. Better than mine. I'm on my way, but that fucker's done a lot'a harm to a lot'a trolls, an' I'm not as forgiving as you yet."

You don't blame him, not even a little.

"He's had a rough go. I don't know how well he's goin' to listen." The brownblood fidgets with his horns, massive as they are. "We weren't the first t'get to him, I don't think."

 

The reality of what he says doesn't hit you until he opens the door, and you catch sight of the seadweller, miserable and slumped forward in the chair, wrists bound with sharp cord behind his back.

His left eye is swollen nearly shut, bruised and battered. There's a tare in his earfin that looks fresh, and the slashes in his shirt aren't from Nitram's lance, they're from a sword.

He's had the shit kicked out of him, and now it makes more sense that a bunch of nobodies were able to capture him and his ship.

It strikes you that he doesn't look as old as you thought he would, but you dismiss the thought that perhaps he's not too set in his ways to change. 

You don't want to get your hopes up.

When he finally looks at you, it's with confusion and scepticism. You don't look like much, you know. Messy, scruffy, shorter than most, no special scars or markings.... and disappointingly small horns.

It's when he can't find a symbol or sign on you that his eyes narrow, and then meet yours.

"I should'a known it was your little posse behind all'a this." He growls, fins flaring. 

"Hey, it's a surprise to me too." You put your palms up at him, try a little smile, and he squints instead. Like he was expecting you to be smug.

"An' is it you who gets t'do the honours'a cullin' me then?" His shoulders are tense, but he looks a mixture of scared, shameful and tired.  
He's... maybe embarrassed?

"That's not really what I'm about." You shrug for him, and you can feel just in Psii's shift in energy that he's smiling, just a little.

The captain before you scoffs, shakes his head- the way he favours one side shows you yes, that earfin stings.  
"Can't believe you're actually everythin' they said you were."

"Well, I was hoping they'd leave out the short part, but, can't win them all I suppose."  
You try to keep light hearted, if only to put off actually asking the hard questions. To both him and yourself.

It's quiet a moment, and he shifts his legs. How he's bound can't be comfortable for him, and while you'd prefer to take the bindings off his wrists, let him sit up properly, you know that's not the safest thing for you right now. 

"If you're not gunna cull me, is your pissblood friend there gunna?" His glare this time isn't so sad, though he sounds certain of his fate. "You not strong enough t'do it yourself?"

"I think it takes a lot of strength, to not kill someone who's harmed so many." You offer him, stern, and a tad accusing.  
"Killing you would be the easiest decision."

He rolls his eyes at you, obviously not wanting to listen.

"You've slain thousands. Friends of mine. Friends of my friends." You sigh, shoulders slumping as you take a step forward, closer to him to get a better look.  
"Loads of trolls want to kill you, and I'm the only one who gets to give them the go-ahead."

You get close enough to touch him, if you wanted. He's still glaring, fins flared despite the pain of it. You don't think he has much conscious control over them... maybe all seadwellers don't? 

Curiosity burns at your tongue, so many questions that are completely off topic. 

You're supposed to be talking politics. Wars. About the treatment of his slaves, his crew.... but all you can think of is the irritating desire to wipe his face clean and stitch up that fin of his.

To ask him how the gills on his neck work, how his vision is under the water, if he likes swimming, or if it's a hassle because it makes clothing wet? Does he even bother to wear clothing under water? It doesn't seem practical.

"I won't kill you." You decide aloud, and Psii makes a tired, knowing sound behind you. "Though I know I ought to."

You reach out to him, catch his jaw with your palm, gentle as you tip his face to get a good look at his injuries.  
He's not stupid, you know that much. Arrogant, but not stupid enough to risk biting you when you've got a psionic in close range.

"You can let the past shape you in many ways. Your own actions, the actions of others." He's still glaring, as if you're humiliating him in front of an audience instead of your quadrantmate. "I'm giving you a chance, in hopes that you'll give _me_ a chance. Because I don't like keeping prisoners who could instead be allies."

He stays stalk still, watching you even as you pull your hand away. His eyes don't leave yours, and you know he sees the red in them. Cant look away from it.  
But instead of the disgust you're used to, you catch a hint of something else.

Curiosity.

You leave the room with a promise of returning shortly, and reminding him he has a lot to think about.  
Psii stays quiet, watching, and follows you out.


	2. Chapter 2

You return to him the next evening feeling terribly guilty you took so long. Your chest aches with regret for having taken your time when you see that sure enough, he's in the same chair, hunched over, arms still bound behind his back.

You know how painful that is after a while, though a proud seadweller like him likely wouldn't admit to it. But, you'd got Psii to bring new cuffs for him. Strong metal ones, that he can keep his hands in front of him while wearing, and that won't cut into his skin so badly.

Your mustardblood is also carrying a bowl of water and a cloth for you- your hands are full with a needle and thread, and a drink for your grumpy looking... guest.

When you pull up a couple chairs next to him, he hardly even glances at you. He doesn't look like he's slept, and he probably hasn't eaten either. Though he's certainly not as wirey looking as Psii is, so you're not terribly concerned on that part.

"Think we could have a chat today?"  
You ask him, plunking yourself down and setting things up on the spare chair while your quadrantmate goes to settle against the room's wall. 

"Maybe." His throat sounds dry, and you right away offer him the water, though he glares at you when he realizes you're holding it up for him because he can't just drink it without help. 

As soon as he tips his head a little to let you know he's done, you pull away and dampen the cloth in the warm water.  
"I'm going to clean you up a little first, ok? The last thing I want is you getting sick or something." He looks a little surprised, but nods for you, though he leans away as you lift the cloth.

"Shhh, I'll be careful," you assure him, and catch his jaw in your hand again. He goes still, eyes wide, fins dipped as you hold him still.  
He watches you so intently, that you stop before you touch the cloth to his face, looking for an explanation.

"You're so warm." He blurts out, and you hear Psii snort out a laugh from his spot against the wall.  
You roll you eyes and dab the cloth against his black eye, which has certainly gone down in swelling since yesterday.

"I'm so low I'm off spectrum. I'm not going to be _cold_." You smirk and wipe at his split lip as gently as you can.

He doesn't say anything in response, just watches you as you work on him, wincing every now and then, but otherwise still, like he knows that's what you need.

"I'm pretty sure I can save that bottom part of your fin." You tell him, not quite ready to dab at the sensitive marred webbing. You know it's going to hurt. "I can stitch the slice in it, and it's likely to heal back together, but I'd have to uh..." you wince just thinking about it. "give it clean edges. Like, _trimmed_ clean edges."

With the way it's hanging right now, if you don't, it'll likely droop low and not have the movement of the rest of the fin, at _best_. At worse, he might lose the whole damn chunk because it's a bit much to be straining on one tiny spine. 

"Do it." he doesn't take his eyes off yours. "I look like a fuckin' idiot like this, an' I was thinkin'a just cuttin' it clean off but..." He scrunches his nose a little, and you know what he's not saying.

He didn't want to take a knife to his own fucking face.

"Ok." You swallow hard. You hate having to hurt trolls, even if it's to heal them properly. "I'm sorry... in advance."

When you pull a small pocket knife out, he seems surprised, though he doesn't shy away when you bring it close to his fin.

"I promise I'm good with stitching things." You talk to him because you're nervous. Because you hate doing this but you want to help. "I've got a steady hand and my Rosa is a seamstress." He winces as you bring the blade to his fin, starting to clear away the scabbing edges.

"Rosa?" He parrots, curious and looking for a distraction.  
"She's... my lusus, essentially. But she's a troll." You're quick about your cuts, steady and clean. "A jadeblood. She cares for me a lot. Keeps me out of trouble."

You're not sure if his weird grimace is because you're cutting his ear, or because of your words. Probably both.

"She's sweet, and wonderful," you try and explain, "Like a friend, or maybe a moirail, but a little different. In a nurturing sort of way."

You wipe away the violet that wells up, whisper a soft 'sorry' under your breath and he doesn't make a single sound. You feel terrible doing this, hurting him intentionally like this, just so that he can have his fin in one piece again, but he never once tells you to stop, so you don't.

You stitch his ear as neatly and quickly as you can, and he hardly finches at each prick of the needle. When you're done, you give his fin one more wipe of the now violet cloth, and give his knee a little pat.

"All stitched up."   
He let's out a breath he must have been holding and you chuckle. 

"You're puttin' up a lot less fuss than I expected." You admit, fussing with his shirt. It's torn and bloody and you're concerned about the wounds under it, but he's still bound so you can't even get the ruined fabric off of him. Which is when you remember you have new cuffs for him.

"We brought you different cuffs!" You shouldn't be so cheery about it, but you kind of are. You want to show him kindness. "Forward ones!"

He squints, but sits up a little straighter. It's like he's waiting for the other foot to drop. Like he's expecting you to surprise him and cull him when he least expects it.

Psii tosses you the new cuffs and you go about undoing the current ones, not a worry in the world until his arms are free and he's moving them, trying to work feeling back into them.   
You laugh a little, but it's not mockingly.

"Yeah those fucker's suck. New ones are forward facing, and really more of a formality." You're moments from telling him that if he stays like this, he won't need cuffs at all, when he springs on you.

The little knife you'd discarded is at your throat, his strong arm across your chest, and he's backing you towards the door, despite it being locked.

"One wrong move an' your mutant's fuckin' dead," he growls at Psii, who's got his psionics ready and is now away from the wall.

"Dualscar." You say his name in a warning tone, tilting your head to look up at him, blade still pressed to the soft skin of your throat.

"Don't think I won't fuckin' kill him. You want that on your shoulders?"  
He's still talking to Psii, but you give your sweetheart a look and he calms, hands going to his sides.

"You kill him, and you'll have no one to protect you." The mustardblood warns him, sounding more tired than angry. "He'th the only thing keeping you alive right now."

He stills, and you can feel the way the pusher in his chest beats quicker, worried that he's screwed up.

"An' what for? Why are you even keepin' me?" He eases up a little, and you let a tiny smile slip to Psii. "As some sorta fucked up pet? The way you're doting on me sure fuckin' seems like it!"

"You've not experienced much kindness, have you." You look up at him, no longer afraid of your own blade at your neck. 

He meets your eyes, skeptical, questioning, but you know he can't look away once he's examining the bright crimson of them again.

"I genuinely do not wish you harm." You insist, reaching up to put your hand over his wrist, try to guide the blade away from you. 

He resists at first, thinking before his shoulders slump and he let's you you move him.   
"I wouldn't be patching you up like this, if I didn't intend to only be kind to you."

You're a bit surprised that he hands you back your knife, and when you thank him, he actually looks sheepish.

"We're not on opposing sides, you know." you tell him, patting the chair next to yours. "Maybe we once were, but not now. There's no need for bloodshed or violence or killing anyone here." You wipe off your knife and tuck it away, and you're pleased that he's listening, that he knows where he stands in this.

"If you kill me, you have no one to protect you when the Condesce comes calling for her traitor- because that's what her and her followers see you as now. Either a traitor, or a weakness, because who knows what information we could be prying out of you."  
It sounds manipulative, coming from your mouth, but it's the honest truth.

"Everyone here is afraid of you, afraid of your highblood wrath and strength." you motion for him to take off his shirt and he hesitantly does, so careful with his damaged fin, every movement sore and stiff. "And the only way we're going to be able to keep any cuffs off of you, is if you convince them, and me, that you're not looking for a fight."

You smooth your hand over his shoulder, tracing the scars in his skin, the tiny sun spots in certain areas. Freckles. They're so gentle in comparison to everything else with him.

"Who did this to you?" You ask him, sitting down to face him, fingertips so close to the wounds on his chest, on his ribs. The bitemarks on his collarbone are the only hint.

He won't meet your eyes when you look at his face, the bruise there.

"I know you're a rough and tough captain, but... these wounds aren't deep, they're just showy. They're superficial, for the most part." He sighs and shrugs, but even that looks worn, like it's a struggle to give any answer at all, even a dismissive one.

"My spade likes it a little rough." He admits finally, and you catch Psii's eyebrows shooting up. Yeah, you thought that might be it. 

"That black eye isn't very attractive, so I don't really see how that works." You offer, wiping away the left over blood on his chest, cleaning him up even if it's not needed.

"I was bein' rude. Deserved it, maybe." He smirks, but it's not smug. It's not playful or sassy, it's just kind of... sad.

"I don't doubt you probably deserved a smack or two, but... this is a little much." You end up behind him, working out the knots in his shoulders, examining just as much as you find yourself admiring.

You don't really catch yourself until Psii sits down in front of him, and Dualscar gets a little more rigid. He's more comfortable and trusting of you already... good.

"How much do you know about The Condesce's ground patrol troups."

"Limited." He's sharp, already not sounding cooperative.  
"Tell us all you _do_ know then."

He narrows his eyes at Psii and you roll yours. 

"The more we know, the better we know how to avoid them, which keeps you safe too." You inform him, and drag your fingers through the base of his hair. He shivers and peeks back at you, surprised, concerned, and horribly curious.

But he doesn't want to say a word about it. Not about how it felt, not about you touching him like that, nothing.

You give him a look that best conveys you meaning to say please, and the result is almost instant.

"There's two main spots that they pool their armies. In the mountains'a Artin'dur, an' the city of Haldrier. Aside from that, it's just Her Imperious's ship that you'll need to worry about. It's fast, it's quiet, and it's deadly." He sounds bitter, but gives you anything he can.

"She's got a loyal following. Anything over teal." He adds with a resigned sigh, fins drooping. "But there are more rust bloods than cobalt and cerulean combined."

You can tell he's not real fond of spilling the details, and even less fond of the smug look on Psimon's face. But you rub his shoulder, gentle and easy enough that he can shrug you off should he not want it, and the look he gives you hurts your bloodpusher a little. 

"Thank you." You smile at him, and watch the colour come to his cheeks as he nods. "You don't have to tell us any more today."

Your mustardblood looks annoyed, thirsty for more info, but you're the one leading this. 

"Do I have t'have those?" He motions to the cuffs you'd placed on your seat, fins dipped low and looking like a kicked barkbeast.

"You jutht had a knife at hith throat, what the fuck do you think?" Psii snaps, and you grimace.  
"It's. More of a formality." You assure him, looking to the door and back. "I don't think you'll harm anyone here. You're not stupid." You give Psii a playful smack when he snorts his disagreement.

"Yeah. Yeah okay." Dualscar nods, gruff, disappointed, but compliant as he holds out his wrists for you. 

 

When you leave, you hardly get the door shut behind you before Psimon has his hands on yours, then pulls you into his arms.

"Fuck you're too truthting, Carcin." He whispers, holding you tight. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze.

"He's not stupid." You repeat, nuzzling against his warm chest, cheek pressed to the fabric of his shirt. "He knows we're the only ones keeping him from being killed. Executed, more like."

"But not everyone ith _good_ ," he mumbles into your hair, stubborn and protective, just like always.

"Well he's not all bad either." You sigh at him, give him a little nudge to try and get him walking back to the room the two of you occupy. "Give him time, and encouragement, and we'll see."

"Ith that what you're calling petting and cooing now? Encouragement?" He scoffs, but moves anyway. You'd think he was jealous if you didn't know him inside and out.

"It's working, isn't it?"


	3. Chapter 3

You come in to check on him the next morning, he already looks a bit better. He's healing, and it looks like he's gotten a bit of rest in the pile they've given him off to one side of the room. He mostly just has that, a small table and chairs, and a washroom should he need it.   
It's a fairly bare living quarters, but, there's no doubt for him now that that's what it is.

Limited, but less prison-like.

He's pressed up against the glass of the window when you enter, and it takes a moment for him to peel himself away, not even giving you a verbal greeting.

Fine, you'll do that first then!

"Good morning! You're looking loads better than yesterday!" You grin and he shrugs, acting like he really doesn't even want to see you. You have every intent to change that opinion.

He's going to want you in here every chance he can get, if you can have it your way.

"I'm gunna wash out that ear I stitched up, just to make sure there's no infection." You inform him, and he narrows his eyes.

"D'you get off on playin' nurse?" He's gruff and annoyed. Salty, you decide. "Or is this just a fun way'a makin' me feel useless."

Psimon stays by the door this time, like he doesn't feel he really needs to follow you closer. Probably doesn't want to get too close.

"Probably more of the first," You wink, and he scrunches up his nose in a way that gets a laugh out of you. "But honestly I just don't want you getting sick on top of being all beaten up."

You bring your bowl and cloth over to the window ledge and motion for him to bend down. It's not like he's a subjuggulator, but his height is still enough that it's troublesome for you to reach his cheeks when he's standing.

When he does, he tips his chin and tilts his face so that you've got more room to get at his sad, stitched up earfin.

"Seems to be taking the stitches well." You let him know, gently wiping at it, getting rid of any crust that isn't scabbing. "I figured it would."  
He hardly winces when you manhandle the sore spots, moving his fin so that you can see the backside of it.

"Fuck, seadweller's heal fast."  
He snorts, a little smirk sneaking to his lips. It warms your pusher, just seeing him at least a little entertained.   
You give the rest of him a look over, and a strong pass. He's already healing so well, and his bruising is going down at probably twice the rate of a lowbloods. It's impressive.

You return to petting his cheeks the way you were last night, and watch his eyelids droop almost immediately. But he's still standing all hunched over for you, and it can't be terribly comfortable.

"Come on, let's go sit you down and we can keep this up." You offer, and the dozey but eager little nod he gives you is actually kind of cute.

He almost dwarfs the chair he sits on, and you make a mental note to see if they can find him some bigger ones. You know a few good sized brownbloods, so they've gotta be around.

You wipe down the scratches on his arms, his chest, comb his hair with your fingers, and by the time you're done he's putty in your hands.

"So these are gills, right?" you trail your fingers along the little slits in his neck and he shivers.

"Mn-hmm." He looks up at you, but it isn't with any sort of worry in his eyes. He trusts you not to hurt him, but warns you anyway. "Don' go stickin' your fingers in'em. They're delicate."

"Alright." You move your hand away from them, and instead drag your fingers down his back, tracing scars, but not asking about them. You don't feel you need to. Not yet.

"So seadweller's can live totally underwater then?" You ask him, curious but also trying to learn as much about seadweller's as you can.. for tactical purposes.

"Depends, but mostly, yeah." He peeks at you and arches into the warmth of your hands. "Depends on bloodcolour."  
"So the Condesce?"

"She can, for sure. All the way to the deepest depths." He sighs a little, nose scrunching again. "But that's an' easy place t'conquer. She's one'a the only few who c'n go that deep. S'why she's rulin' above water too."

"And you?" his eyes are almost closed as you sit back down in front of him in a chair of your own, brushing loose hair out of his eyes. There's a bit of curl to it, similar to yours. "Can you live underwater entirely?"

He shrugs again, giving a noncommittal noise before actually speaking.  
"For the most part. Can't go too deep. S'cold. I'm better suited t'tropical temperatures." He acts like he's embarrassed about it, like it's something he ought to be ashamed of. 

You smile, and meet his eyes as you slow your hand.  
"Better than me! I can't swim at all. I just sink like a rock."

He laughs this soft, tired sound that suits him so well, and he seems to speak before he can even think about what he's saying.

"I could teach you?"

The moment the words are out of his mouth, he seems to realize what he's offered, and purses his lips. But you're already too smug about this. Too pleased that yes, he's certainly capable of being nice, friendly even.  
You don't care that he sees when you shoot Psi a knowing look. A wordless ' _I told you so_ ', just for him.

"I might take you up on that." You keep on smiling, and return to messing with his hair. "I've always wanted to learn, but. It's usually not safe for me to be out by open water, and peace is hard to keep anywhere for long." 

He nods, brows knitting and you know he's actually considering your position, your life. He's realizing how hard being YOU is, and how limited you are.

"One day, perhaps. When we have time and some quiet." You shift in your seat, and he startles a little. You've lulled him into such a calm state, he'd let his guard down.

"I'm going to try and find you some bigger chairs." You offer him, finally taking your hand back. "So that you're not stuck with tiny ones."

When you stand, he watches, then looks down at his bound hands for a moment.  
"That would be... appreciated."

"Alright. Well, we'll be back with dinner?" You head for the door, but he doesn't make any attempt to follow, als much as he seems to want to. "Any requests?"

"Less fuckin' green bullshit, more fish."

Even Psimon laughs, and you feel all three of you ease up a little. You agree to tell who ever is making the dinner your guest's request, and head out.


	4. Chapter 4

You're... going to test something. You only feel a little bad about not letting Psimon in on the plan, but, it would ruin it. Psii is a terrible actor, and the worst liar you know.

You set everything up perfectly, and then it's just making sure you don't get caught that worries you.

Psii is a little nervous about having to spend time with Dualscar without you there to pap the seadweller silly, but you assure him, the captain isn't stupid. He won't harm him, difficult questions or not. 

Besides, you're going in with him to start! You're helping him carry in Dualscar's dinner! That's something at least!

You lead the way in, plate in one hand, keys in the other. Psii has drinks and his own plate with him, since he's there for a while. The way Dualscar perks up when you enter the room makes you smile- he's gotta be lonely, trapped in that room all day, hands in cuffs in front of him but still fairly useless in making any sort of escape.

"You've got food?" His fins flick and you grin, nodding at him.  
"Dinner! I can't stick around, but Psii can, so he's going to multitask with you!"

He immediately looks concerned- he doesn't trust Psimon either, it seems.

"I'll not be gone terribly long, just have to run an errand for a friend." You offer him, setting his plate at the little table they've given him. You're sure he's feeling less like a prisoner every day, with the steady increase in living quality. 

The kindness always seems baffling to him, and it's almost like he doesn't know how to say thank you each time you give him something new. His eyes show it though.

"Here, let's get these off of you," You twirl the keys and he's quick to hold out his wrists, eager for that freedom. "Psii can certainly hold his own if you start any funny business," you warn him, quirking an eyebrow at him playfully. "But i'm pretty sure you're passed that."

He nods, looking between you and the food. It's almost sort of sad, how eager for praise he is. How even your bit of kindness to him has had such an effect.  
You're curious to see if it sticks once you leave the room.

Psimon takes the seat across from the captain, and you go press a smooch to his horn.  
"I'll be back before you know it." You promise your mustardblood, and he hums out a worried sigh, giving your hand a squeeze. You make sure Dualscar is watching when you lean in for a proper kiss, soft lips lingering just a little on Psimon's. 

That's all the show you intend to put on, so you wave at the two of them before head to the door, which you close behind you, and twist the key in.... then untwist it, and sit down with your face pressed to the crack.

They're both quiet for a few moments, awkwardly picking at their plates, neither wanting to be the first to start eating.  
Finally, Dualscar shifts in his chair, kicks off his boots and stretches. You try not to laugh at the way Psi tenses up.

"That kid is too trustin'." The seadweller grumbles, and finally takes a drink from his glass. You can only tell by body language that your psionic rolls his eyes in response.

"You're tellin' that to the wrong perthon." He huffs, and scoops up a forkful of his dinner. "I've been warning him for thweeps that itth gunna bite him in the ath one night."

Dualscar chuckles a little, shaking his head.   
"So he really is always like that, huh?" He starts on his meal as well, and you're so relieved that they didn't immediately start brawling. Psii has every reason to want to.

"Every day." Psimon confirms, leaning forward in his chair, cheek resting in his palm lazily.   
"Thought he wath crathy at firtht." He admits with a shrug, popping another biteful into his mouth, then talking around it. "Naive. Thweet."

"Has he ever killed someone? Or is that your job."

Psi narrows his eyes and grimaces.  
"Mothly my job, but. I volunteered for it, thort of. It upthetth him a lot. He tryth to thave everyone."

"An' not everyone's willin' to listen to a redblood rebel, huh?" He says it kind of haughtily, smug as he takes another drink. "Not surprised."

"Not everyoneth worth thaving." You almost groan, but Psi has his reasons. He has his own experiences.

"An why the hell does he think _I_ am?" Tired confusion leaks into his voice and you catch sight of him pushing a hand through his own hair, "All I can think about is the number of trolls I needlessly slaughtered. Because he's right, killin' is easy." 

Bitter and tired and worn. He's salty like the sea he sails on, and that calls to you from your spot at the door.

"Killin' anyone who got in my way was easy, so I did it all the time. I got a kick out'a it even. Why the hell is he protectin' me of all trolls?"

Psimon smiles, and your pusher heats your whole self.   
"Becauthe you've thought about it now." He states it so plainly. "Becauthe all you needed was the suggestion that it didn't have to be that way."

The seadweller looks confused but you want to cheer, because your mustardblood is right on the money. 

"Suggestion'a what? That I'm fuckin' useless t'the empire now? That they'd kill me if they got the chance because I didn't kill him first? You think I wanted t'have the responcibility'a bein' a captain? Of havin' to do as I was asked, an' never receivin' recognition?" He's agitated but Psi is nothing but calm, so different than he usually is because he has to be. He has to be the stillness to Dualscar's frustration.

"You didn't choose it just like I didn't choose to be a slave." Psimon sips his drink, slow and calm. "The cathte thythtem fuckth all of uth. The only real differenthe ith who ever is in Her favour getth away with more."

"Fuckin' right you are on that one." He grumbles, then realizes his own admission, nearly dropping his drink.  
"They'd be right t'consider me a traitor."

"Yep."

When Dualscar sighs, he drops his forehead into his hand, leaving it there with his elbow propped on the table.  
"What d'you need t'ask me." 

You want to jump, you want to cheer, you want to burst in there right now and congratulate him! But! You know he's going to need time with this. He's going to take more than a few minutes to accept his own thoughts.  
So instead you press against the door some more and stay watching them.

"You anthwered motht of it, jutht by talkin'." Psimon smiles, returning to his meal. "Mothtly I jutht need to find out more about government thythtemsth, how highblood politicth work. Thtuff like that."

"Oh."  
"Ith that okay? Do you know much on that?" He's picked that up from you- the checking in that it's okay to ask him such a thing.

"Yeah. I know enough of it. I c'n explain it half decently, I think." He slumps a little, tension easing from his form. He looks smaller, like this. Humbled in a way.

For a seadweller, he's really not as frightening as you'd been expecting...

"C'n I ask you somethin' too though?"

"Yeah, I gueth."

"Am I always gunna be... a prisoner like this?" He gesture to the table, the room, and god, your chest aches for him, the hopelessness in his voice. "Or is it just t'get me t'talk. An' then it's gone."

Psi surprises you by reaching forward and brushing his knuckles against the seadweller's, shaking his head softly.  
"You really think Carcin would thtand for that thort of thing?"

The sheepish little chuckle that leaks from the captain says it all. He feels safe. He knows you'll look after him.

And that's all you really need to hear. So before you can eavesdrop on any more pusher-warming information, you get to your feet, and head off to do those errands you'd promised Rosa ages ago.


	5. Chapter 5

When you return to the room, you find the two of them next to each other as Dualscar is showing off the scars all over his upper torso, and comparing them to Psi's.

You've still not found a new shirt for the seadweller, but Psimon seems to have no trouble discarding his to turn and show him the white lash marks over his shoulder blades.

"I wath thix thweeps and they gave me eight lasheth. Just for dropping my bowl."

The seadweller has enough sense to look horrified.  
"Six fuckin' sweeps? I barely had any balance at all. Fuck knows I bumped into enough shit at that age. Zero spacial awareness."

They both catch sight of you and startle, though Psimon laughs at his own response.  
"Hey! You're back!"

"I am." You grin at him and go pull up a chair, dropping your first aid kit at the table for the time being. "And I've got stitches to take out of some big burly seadweller if he'll let me."

The way the captain raises his eyebrows, then looks down at his own chest, like he'd forgotten he'd been beaten up at all is almost cute. It takes a moment of searching for him to remember that it's his fin you mean, and his cheeks colour.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, y'can."

You give him a check over first, tilt his head this way and that. The bruising near his eye is nearly gone, lip healed, and his chest only has fine white lines where he'd been sliced before. He heals so fast, you're almost jealous.

"Might feel weird," You warn him, wiping the area clean before you get the scissors.  
He makes an affirmative noise, but sits still for you, glancing back and forth between you and Psimon, who looks terribly smug.

"Did you two have a good talk?" You ask, leaning in close, your voice gentle and coaxing.

"Y-yeah." He tries not to move as he speaks, afraid with those blades so near to somewhere so sensitive.

"And did you make any progress?" You peek at Psimon knowingly and get a laugh out of him.  
"Loadth."

You snip each little thread on his fin and gently wiggle out the stitches one by one, the material hardly snagging at all on the now healed skin.

"And did _you_ ," you cup Dualscar's cheeks, getting him to meet your eyes and feeling him fidget with his hands in his lap, "Learn anything about yourself today?"

"That I've been a filthy traitor longer th'n I thought?" His one ear droops, but the other in your hand is still while Psi laughs at him.

"Well, I wasn't going to be that harsh," You chuckle, petting over the healed fin with the pad of your thumb, slow and gentle in a way that makes him melt into the touch. "You could maybe say that you're really not so different than us. Or that you understand our perspective more than you wanted to?"

He hums a pleased sound, eyes going half lidded at your touch, reminding you how starved he is for gentleness, for someone to be careful with him.

"We're not as awful as you thought, huh?" You pet his cheeks, one in each hand as he leans into your palms, eyes nearly closed as you pap him into a blissed out stupor. 

"Nm-mn." He shakes his head, just a little, and you can feel Psi watching you curiously. Yeah, you can do this to him too, but Dualscar simply hasn't felt such care, so he's so much more susceptible to it.

"Think you ready to leave this stupid room?" You ask him, and the way his eyes widen, so hopeful, you can't help but smile. "Not everyone's going to be friendly out there, y'know."

"Yeah." he doesn't seem deterred, especially with the way his fingers curl in his worn out pants. He's too distracted, too content to be pet and cooed at.

"You've gotta be sure you can handle yourself out there." You insist, slowing your touches to make sure he listens, until he whines, his own sound startling him.

As if even he wasn't aware you could turn him into putty like that.

You're fairly close to him, and you can tell he's starting to try and put up a tough front, to try and wean himself off your warm hands.  
So you kick it up a notch.

You smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, meet his eyes, watch how he wets his lips, but doesn't dare move away.

"What's your name?" You ask him, soft and sweet, nothing but gentle with him. He narrows his eyes, like it's some sort of trick question.

"Your _real_ name," you insist, and he purses his lips stubbornly.

"You know by now that I'm Carcin," You offer up, still petting his checks, pads of your fingers brushing against his hairline. "And he's Psimon. So it's your turn."

God, he's nearly going to tear a hole in those pants of his if he keeps up with gripping them like that.

"Delfin." He whispers is out, like he hardly remembers it. It must have been ages since he's actually said it out loud.

"Delfin," you parrot it back to him, soft and warm, and you feel the tenseness ease out of him just a little. "That really suits you, y'know." 

He smiles, and your chest nearly seizes up because it's so genuine, he's so open with how he feels when you'd have thought sweeps at sea, sweeps under Her Imperial Condescension, would have ripped that from him, beaten it out of him.

You don't even hesitate when you lean in and brush your lips against his, catching yourself just before you scare him with too much all at once.  
His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull back, your noses touching ever so slightly. You give him an encouraging nudge and fuck, he actually listens.

He kisses quicker than you were expecting. Rougher, like he doesn't know how to slow down. Like he's trying to survive a storm instead of just enjoying the ride. 

You hold his cheeks, pull him back just a little and guide him, slow him down just by leading him instead of letting him charge forward, and you're almost a little smug when he lets you.

You feel a hand on your chest, wide and strong, trying to grasp your cloak, pull you in for more as he opens his mouth for you and-

"Okay, that'th enough!"

There's a sharp spark in the air and you hear the click of cuffs around Dualscar's wrists before you even see anything. 

Psii's hand is tugging you away by the hood, and you surprise yourself by whining a little in protest as he leads you towards the door.   
He doesn't look mad, when you glance at your psionic, but he doesn't look pleased either. He looks... Conflicted.

Oops.

"We'll be back." He says it firmly, and you catch a glimpse of Dualscar looking horrified, sitting completely still and watching you leave, just before the door shuts behind you.


	6. Chapter 6

There's a oliveblood standing guard at the door, but she's quick to take a hint from Psimon as he dismisses her that really, you two have it covered.

So covered. It's completely handled. The Captain is in good hands....

The captain has such nice strong hands....

 

You glance at Psii sheepishly and he sighs, shoulders sagging.

"I got thcared." He admits, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours. You chirr and wrap your arms around him, give his thin middle a good squeeze. "What if we're being two truthting?"  
"I think he's okay, Psii."  
"You think everyoneth okay." He smiles fondly at you and you press your face to his chest.

"Hith handth alone could do theriouth damage two you." He warns, but there's something to his tone that isn't final. Isn't completely solid.  
"He was being careful with them." You offer. "His mouth not so much. I don't think he knows how to.. yknow. Slow down."

He leans back so he can raise an eyebrow at you, smirking a little.  
"Tho you want to show him. By trial and error."  
"Yes."  
He scoffs, shaking his head.

"Would you be more game to keep trying if his hands stayed bound?" You inquire, and watch the way he purses his lips in thought.  
"I'd be more game to thay 'have at 'im' if you weren't tho damn thmall in comparithon to him." He admits with a tiny grimace. "Two breakable. Two important two rithk it."

"Psimon," you whine, and he slumps a little, "You know i'm not that breakable."  
"We've been hearing thtorieth about hith conquests thince we hatched, Carcin." He reminds you, and you try to shrug it off. "He'th one of Her betht captainth for a reathon. He's thtrong and ruthleth and-"

"And he needs to be given a chance." You cut him off. "He's been doing so well. He's been cooperating and getting along, even with you." 

He frowns and you roll your eyes at him.

"You're the one who's all bone. I'm small, but sturdy. I've got him under control, I promise." You insist to him and can practically feel him give in under your fingers, going limp against the touch of your hands down his back.

"Fiiiiine, but you're giving all the directionth." He ends up smiling, nosing at your hair as you grin.

"You can be the one to take the cuffs off him?" You offer, and his eyebrows perk up. "You can decide when he's been good enough?"

"Hmmmm." He hums against your skin, drags his lips across your forehead again as he considers it. "Thounds like you have a plan, Carcin."

"And if I do?" He pulls back to smirk down at you and you shift your weight from foot to foot in excitement.  
"You alwayth have awful planth." But he's still smirking. He's not saying no. "They alwayth get uth intwo trouble."  
"And you always love every minute of it."  
He nudges you back towards the door with a little chuckle.

"Letth hope no one catcheth uth then."

 

When he pulls the door back open, not even having locked it, Dualscar sits up, obviously having had his head in his hands.

He looks tired and worried and like he thinks he's done something horrible.  
You immediately feel awful for leaving him like that, and you hope Psii does too.

"M'sorry, I was out'a line," He starts, looking to you, then over to Psimon as you head over to him. He stands up to meet you, but seems to immediately regret it, realizing he towers over you.   
"I knew you two were in'a quadrant an' I still fuckin' did that, an' it wasn't right'a me."

When you get to him, you catch his cuffed wrists and hush him, watching the way his fins droop like a kicked barkbeast.

"Shhh, you didn't do anything wrong," You watch him bend down a little, so that he's not taking up so much room, so that he's not so intimidating standing in front of you like that. "I was the one that started that, and I wouldn't have if it wasn't something I didn't want reciprocated."   
"But," His eyebrows pinch together and he looks up over you to Psimon. "Still. It's not... I'm not yours."

"You don't belong to anyone but yourself," You reach up and catch his cheek, get him to look back down at you. "Just like I don't belong to anyone else. We can all make our own decisions here."

He looks so baffled, so conflicted, worry and hope swirling in his violet eyes. 

"I've never been very good at keeping with tradition." You smirk, smoothing your thumb back and forth over his cheek. "Quadrants are no exception to that."

You kiss him before he can protest and he whines into your mouth, even as he bends down more so he can kiss back.

Hand on his jaw, you make him slow down this time, guide him with how you like to be kissed, show him it's not a race.   
It's like he's never been led gently, because each time you pull him back he looks like he's preparing for you to lash out at him, for you to change your mind, for you to not keep kissing him because he's screwed up.

"Shhhh," you hush him again, brush your nose back and forth against his and feel the way he almost kneads his hands in the cuffs, like he wants to touch so badly but is afraid to ask for it. "Slow down, there's no time limit on this."

He startles a little and you're only confused for a moment before you spot Psimon peeking over the seadweller's shoulder, lathing his tongue over cool, scarred skin.  
"M'not interrupting, am I?" His voice is teasing, and you can't help but roll your eyes.

"Delfin, if he's not welcome, you tell him so, okay?" You nearly laugh again at the horrified look that crosses the captain's face, first at the use of his name, then at the insinuation behind your words. He peeks over his shoulder, pulling away from your hand and almost looking offended at the way Psimon presses up against him, slips his thin arms around the captain's chest.

"You two really do work as a team, don't'ya?" He asks, a hint of playful amazement audible in his voice.  
"Of courthe." Psi looks at him incredulously, "Two is alwayth more effective than one."

You almost expect Dualscar to laugh or shrug him off, but he surprises you instead.  
"Couldn't agree more."  
He snatches a quick kiss from Psimon and you nearly cheer with glee. 

Your mustardblood seems to agree by the pleased noise he makes and the way he splays his hands across the captain's bare chest, getting as close to him as he can while not making him turn away from you.

You watch Psi lap at Delfin's lip, nip at him, chase him in a way that's taunting and teasing, making the seadweller work for his kisses as he touches all over his chest. Fuck if it doesn't make you want more, just watching them.   
You're only seconds away from saying something when Psimon breaks the kiss to mouth at the gills along Dualscar's neck, dragging a ragged sort of gasp from the seadweller that opens him up for you.   
You tug him down for a kiss and he goes willingly, whining into your mouth again as you feel Psi roll his hips against him.

Of course he can't keep it in his pants- it's fucking Psimon. You swat at him, but he just snickers, and you're too busy being attached at the mouth with a tall sea captain to really keep up with thwarting his attempts to practically hump Dualscar's ass. 

"S-Shit," It's Delfin who breaks away first, knees a bit wobbly with the weird stance he's been managing. Half bent to reach you, but trying to stay as upright as possible so that Psimon can keep sucking on his neck with that hot mouth of his. "Didn't think this was, hhhh," His eyes are only half open as he bites his lip, "Goin' there, but I can't say I mind."

You huff, and whap Psimon's arm.  
"I want a little fun first, you fucking hop-beast!"

He has the gall to laugh, then grind against Dualscar a second time. 

"You have your fun, and i'll have mine." He moves his hands lower, plucking at the top of the seadweller's pants suggestively.

"Delfin, I mean it," You remind him, making him look at you again before Psimon can keep distracting him, "You tell him to fuck off if he's being too pushy."

"Fuck no."

You snort, and start stepping backwards, leading both him and Psii towards the worn mattress that's been Dualscar's bed the past week.   
Fine, if they're going to get to it, you're at least going to be comfortable while you watch.

You shrug off your cloak as your heel bumps the edge of the mattress, and Delfin's palms are on your chest almost immediately, still bound and limited, but with enough movement that he can touch back, at least a little bit.

Psimon's pants are long gone and he's trying to work on your seadweller's, but it's proving difficult, especially while you're pulling him forward for kisses. He's just as hungry as he was for them before, but he's already learned you like them slow, that you don't want sharp teeth at your lips.

His pants slip off his hips once Psi gets his belt undone, and you figure that's really all the three of you need. 

"Easy, eaaasy," You slowly step onto the bed and sink down, bringing him with you so that he's on his knees, cheeks still in your hands and gaze not wavering from yours, "there you go." 

You back up so that you're more centered on the mattress and Psimon has enough room to climb on behind Delfin, his hands now roaming all over the seadweller's hips.

You know the exact moment Dualscar feels Psimon's bulge against his ass because of the face he makes right as he's about to return to kissing you. The laugh that bursts out of you is at least good humored, and doesn't quit when Delfin actually turns around to confirm that what he felt was real.

Psimon wiggles an eyebrow at him.  
"Two ith alwayth more effective than one." He repeats, and the seadweller's mouth drops open in disbelief.

"No fuckin' way." He shakes his head, but presses back against him none the less. "Rebels an' mutants."  
"And you're in bed with them!" You laugh and steal back your kiss, just so you can have him moan into your mouth when Psimon teases his fingers over the highblood's nook.

His kisses are distracted from then on, and you know it's because Psimon is working at least two digits into him, gentle but insistent. You know he's good at that from personal experience, but you figure you can likely help out just by holding Dualscar up.

You kiss his jaw and loop his arms over your shoulders, helping him keep his balance while he bends his back and you catch a glimpse of Psi admiring his work, just before guiding a bulge into Delfin, who nearly melts onto you.

Oh yeah, you suppose he's not used to heat being involved. 

"O-oh fuck," He stutters, nosing against your cheek as Psimon sinks deeper. "Fuck, that's good."

"Yeah?" You kiss at his temple, pet his shoulders, his ribs, anywhere you can touch. 

"That'th only one, _Captain_." Psimon snickers, rolling his hips, still leaned back so he can watch where his bulge goes into him.

Delfin whines, the sound more concerned than you were expecting. You consider for a moment how daunting that must seem to someone who isn't used to it, and shoot your psionic a worried look.  
"Go slow with him, Psi," you warn, running a hand through the back of the seadweller's hair to soothe him. "It's kind of a lot."

The violet tries to shake his head, tries to protest but you hush him, catch his cheeks again and kiss them, one after the other.  
"You're doing so good," you whisper to him, and there his eyes go again, wide and wanting, so unused to praise. "You're being so good, Delfin. Do you like this?"

He nods, panting out a soft little moan as Psimon's bulge curls inside him, stretching him just a little so that he'll be able to fit the second.

"D'you _want_ the second one?" You check, just in case he doesn't, just in case this is already too many new things all at once.

"F-fuck, yes," He nods, quicker this time, and you kiss at the base of his earfin, suck a little mark into his neck, just below his jawline. He tilts his head up for you, offering you more, while his fingertips drag on your back- so careful not to use his claws.   
"Want everythin'."

You reach down, smooth your hand down his stomach until you catch hold of his bulge. He's thick and just as long as Psi, but a good deal cooler in temperature as he curls around your wrist, burying his nose into the crook of your neck as he pants.  
It's so obvious to you that he's not had someone be gentle with him. The way he's still nervous, still almost shy about his own responses, like he's afraid to be genuine and readable in case it bites him in the ass.

"Shhh, tell me what feels best," You coo to him, nosing right back at him, peppering kisses along his lips, his cheeks. Your hand stays on the underside of him, slowly stroking his bulge as it tries to hold you right back, keep the touches steadily on him.

"Anythin'," He breathes, and you hear his breath hitch just before he moans, soft and quiet as he leans against you. Judging by the way Psimon's eyes are half lidded, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, you can assume he just got his second bulge in. 

"Too much?" You ask, worried when he tries to hide a whimper.  
"Nm-mn." And you know he's not lying because he rocks his hips backwards, encouraging Psii to let him have it.  
Psimon is a lot, you know personally, but Dualscar seems to be able to handle him better than your first attempt. Maybe it's just size difference overall that makes it easier on him.

The seadweller adjusts himself, rocks into your hand a little, then back onto Psimon's bulges, and you're pretty sure you catch a tiny warble slipping from his throat- pleased and so turned on that he's not got much of a filter left for himself.  
Delfin sucks at your neck, your earlobe, and you keep on petting him, cooing to him as you stroke his bulge, trying to match up with the little bucks Psi is giving him.  
He's still trying to keep his claws away from your shoulders while he clings to you, shakey and blissed out.  
He's terribly sweet like this, and you're maybe a little proud that you figured he would be. Of course the salty sea captain turns sweet when you fuck him nice and pet him stupid.

There's a crackle of psionics by your ear, and then hands are on your back, unhindered as cuffs hit the mattress.

You see Psimon looking awfully smug from over Dualscar's shoulder, just before Delfin clutches you to his chest, mouths kisses against your neck to muffle the sweet sounds being worked out of him.

Yeah, okay, you kind of want to spoil him, now that you've gotten him to crack like this.

One hand stays on his bulge, stroking him slow and soft while your other hand starts undoing your pants and shoving them off one side at a time.  
"I think, you should make use of that bulge of yours," You coo, trying not to laugh at the way Psimon bites his lip.  
"Would you like that?"

"Fuck, _yes_ ," Delfin's on you in an instant, helping you get comfortable before nearly mashing his mouth against yours.  
"Shhhh slow down," you warn him, and he whines, but complies, sucking on your lip as you spread your legs under him. You coax his bulge right to your nook, hushing him as he gets impatient. "Gentle."

Psi drives into him, pushing him into you, and you gasp, hand threading into the captain's hair.   
"Psimon," You warn, but there's no anger to it. "That's not slow."  
He snickers, and you give a little roll of your hips, encouraging Dualscar's bulge inside you.

"You're so warm," He whispers, nosing at your cheek, your temple.   
"Mm-hm," You pepper his cheeks with tiny kisses, then catch his mouth for a long, slow one. He moans into it, bulge curling and getting a noise out of you.

When he pulls back for breath, he tries to shoot Psimon a look, but it must not come out as tough as he'd meant it.  
"Those bulges'a yours," He has to pause to muffle a noise, your psionic having bucked just a little into him, no doubt trying to make speech difficult. "Fuckin' relentless."

"You bet." he winks, and you'd smack him if you weren't so otherwise occupied.   
"You should let him, mnnnn," A pleased purr bubbles up out of your throat and drags Dualscar's attention back to you. "Fuck you, one in each hole."  
His eyebrows shoot up and you nearly laugh when Psimon takes the opportunity to give another curl inside him.

"Not now," You clarify, your own eyelids fluttering at the way Delfin's bulge fills you so well, so thick and soft. "Later."  
He whines a little, hides his face in the crook of your neck and sucks a mark into your skin.

Well, that sure as fuck wasn't a 'hell no', but perhaps he's just, a little surprised that the two of you would want him more than once?  
You hum a pleased noise as he rolls his hips in time with Psi, and your nook squeezes him tight. He's good at this- nervous, impatient, but good.

"Would you like that? Would you like t'be fucked like this again?" You ask him, quiet enough that it's terribly intimate sounding. He trills and nods, and you catch a pleased grin from Psimon as he smooths his hands over the seadweller's hips, petting him as he holds his bulges deep in him.

Delfin almost squirms, trying so hard not to knead his nails into your shoulders as Psimon plugs him full, his bulges no doubt lashing inside him. The captain is already a mess, needy and panting as he clings to you.

"Nnn, need a," He bites his lip, eyes closed and eyebrows pinched, "Need a bucket."

Psimon's enough of a shit to actually laugh at him.  
"Who you keeping it for? Yourthelf?"

You're a little gentler than that, thumbs petting Delfin's cheeks as he presses your foreheads together.

"We're rebels. Fugitives." You kiss him, soft but urgent. "We can't turn in slurry, Delfin."

He whines, tucking his face to your neck, a mixture of sheepish and so close to finishing that he's clinging to you any way he can.

"You can just, come, you know." You encourage him, mouthing kisses against his earfin while trying not to pant too loudly. "I kinda like it."

It doesn't take much more than that.  
Psimon nips Dualscar's shoulder as he drives into him, a little rougher, a little more determined, and you get to watch your salty sea captain fall apart. 

He's all gasps and whimpers, sweet little warbles into your neck, and then you're being flooded with cool material. It's enough of a shock, combined with the way his bulge swells within you, that you follow right after him.

You can actually _feel_ Psimon fucking him through his orgasm, little rocks of his hips nudging Delfin's bulge inside you.   
The violetblood doesn't even try to quiet himself, little whimpers and moans pouring out of him as Psimon continues, smooth but firm in his motions, until they're a little less even, a little more urgent.

The startled, louder moan that tears out of Dualscar is clue enough that Psimon finishes soon after. You hold Delfin's face, hush him as he pants raggedy, eyes halflidded and looking dazed as hell.

He's not nearly so gruff or intimidating when he's got a nook plugged full of bulge and warm slurry.

"Shhhh, Shhhhh, all done," You coo at him, and he leans into your palms eagerly, so openly wanting of your gentleness. Your praise, even. "You did so well."

He's nearly boneless when Psii pulls out, and let's the mustardblood ease him into laying down with the both of you.  
You're a little surprised that he even tries smoothing his hands over him with you, tucking right up against him on the makeshift bed and letting both their legs intertwine on the blankets.

"Was that alright?" You ask, quiet and sweet. You keep petting Delfin's cheeks, slow and soothing, your chest tight as you watch him calm under your fingertips.  
He nods, tired but content, and wraps an arm around your middle, reaching up to try his best at returning the touches you're giving him, but to your back instead.

He's so big in comparison to you and Psii, you think his feet might be off the edge of the mattress. 

"Won'erful," He breathes out the word, warm and at ease all tucked up with the both of you. "Not the kinda surprise I was expectin', though."  
His smile warms your pusher, and you chuckle, snagging a couple more little kisses from him before he turns his head to catch at least two little pecks from Psimon, who's arms are wrapped around him quite comfortably.

"We're gunna be in tho much trouble," your psionic snickers, nosing at Dualscar's neck. The seadweller looks genuinely worried for a moment, so you pap him gently.  
"We're always in trouble. It'll be fine."

"You're the good kind'a trouble?" Delfin offers, tired and a tad sheepish.  
"Of course." 

Psimon wrestles a blanket out from under the three of you, then hogs it to himself. The three of you whisper conversation until you're too exhausted to keep talking. 

One by one you drift off, but like usual, you're last to doze.

Dualscar is dead asleep and wrapped around you best he can be, a combo of protective and sleep-clingy, and it strikes you that it'll likely be obvious to who ever comes to check in on you, that your big gruff seadweller isn't so awful like this.

And most importantly, that he's yours now.


End file.
